There are days,
after having spent hours
flirting with the pages of a thick book, i sit in shame.

Written by: Flose Boursiquot


Photos: Kalya M Mendez 
Media contact:
Author of Close Your Eyes, Now Breathe loudmouth.

Yoga in the park

Hands to arms,
you touched my heart.

I love you with the strength
of the sun against our stomachs.

You told me that I am my master,
with the earth holding me up,
you showed me community.

Hands to arms,
you touched my heart.

I love you.

Written by Flose Boursiquot
Purchase my books here:

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Right love

Women who love other women were abused. 

She says this, my black diva, those words she said.

My vagina shrinks. That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard and I disagree.

“I love other women.” 

Words I haven’t said out-loud to myself enough times to understand. Instead, I write poems — formulas to ease understanding.

The first time a man touched me with his Brillo Pad fingers, I was five. The last time, I was 21. At 16, I asked a boy to hold my virginity. He held it in between his ring finger and thumb — it’s not new, he said.

I agreed. It has been stripped like onion layers at Burger King.

Catholics said god will give me a second one if I prayed. I needed a dozen at that point. God frowned not knowing I had Brillo Pad scars all across my clitoris and vaginal walls.

Women who love other women were abused. 

I love individuals. 

I love individuals because I have seen how men move in systems. From five, I have known that the love in my heart cannot belong to man alone. It belongs to the light inside the light in you — I see the light that shines for me. And so, I love individuals.

I love in human. I love that women are beautiful. I love that womyn are beautiful. I love that trans is beautiful. I love that the light inside the light of me can love right.

Written by: Flose Boursiquot


Photos: Kalya M Mendez || Jewelry: Haati Chai Jewelry 
Media contact:
Author of Close Your Eyes, Now Breathe loudmouth.

I feel small

Early this week, someone who I care about disagreed with a decision I made creatively & asked me to rescind. After the discussion, I couldn’t think of any other way to describe how I felt other than small. I’m loud, I’m talkative, I say what’s on my mind, and I do what I want. Are there moments when those parts of my character have negative consequences, ABSOLUTELY. And I spend time overthinking how I can be better next time. When I make creative decisions, I allow myself to be free. I don’t think about other people, I think of myself and my artistic message. Do I think of the impact my creative decisions have, ABSOLUTELY. Do I think about how they will inspire others, ABSOLUTELY. But, ultimately, I make all of my creative decisions for me, because they allow me to breathe in this world.

Joshua Everett, an amazing friend and creative, sent me an amazing collection of essays by Kiese Laymon titled “How to slowly kill yourself and others in America,” and the page I’ve opened today discusses feeling small and I feel so understood.

It reads, “I’m just waking up on the anniversary of Malcolm X’s assassination, the birthday of Nina Simone, and I feel small. I’m not comparing my life’s accomplishments to either of them. I’ve learned enough to stop making that mistake. But I still compare myself to who I think I should be by now and the vision is incomplete.”

Asking creatives to rescind what we produce, takes a bit away from “who [we] think [we] we should be,” it’s an unfair ask and in a lot of ways a selfish one. And like Kiese outlines, many of us already compare ourselves to people and visions that exist and some that we make up ourselves. We don’t need you to shrink us any smaller.

Whether you know me as a friend, colleague, partner, daughter, employee, niece, remember that your role in this world is not to form expectations of me and ask that I live up to them. Your role is to be present with me, in the same way, my role is to be present with you. Should you question me, ABSOLUTELY. Should you encourage me to make my way to a better self, ABSOLUTELY. But, it is never your job or your place to ask that I fit into a mold that benefits you. Do I know all of that bullshit about women who blah blah blah and don’t compromise will end up alone, sure… insert Eartha Kitt laugh.

Photos: Kalya M Mendez || Jewelry: Haati Chai Jewelry 
Media contact:

Author of Close Your Eyes, Now Breathe loudmouth. 

17 Killed in Florida Mass School Shooting

The world spins
on shoulders
that are too
weary to carry
much more than
the weight of

When bodies fly
the light flickers
once more — we
lose love, peace
and smiles the
universe carved
with her veins.

Targets don’t shoot
themselves, guns
don’t kill targets,
people do —
stop! stop! stop!
Words, even when
they are prayers,
cannot save souls.

How many more?
How many more
have to shake
in closets as
feet make way
to ravage the innocent?

How many more!

18 this year.
The year is
just February so

How many more!

Open the caskets.
Will you care if
the heartbroken
loved ones show you!

How many more!

Have them go in.
Enough for our
first responders,
send in the

How many more!

When the world spins
on shoulders that
are too weary to
carry much more
than the weight of skin…

Who still stand
and say no more simply
because human lives matter.

Written by: Flose Boursiquot
February 15, 2018


Talkative (loudmouth is now on Amazon)

I talk so much that I’m afraid
all of my poems will flow out of me
I’ll run quickly, chasing them
until i become nothingness

onlookers will find me
gazing corner to corner
gasping for air — damn, they’ll think,
girl must-a lost all her poems.

The #BookCellar #February 17th 6pm #LakeWorth

Kayla M Mendez for photo needs: